Dragon Age: Last of the Elvhenan
by Ghost089
Summary: The story of a Dalish Elf who must weather the trials and tribulations of fate. A retelling of the Origins story with twists, alterations, and additional characters.
1. Chapter 1

_**Dragon Age: Origins**_

**_Last of the Elvhenan_**

_**Chapter One: Child of the Dalish**_

When enough time had passed, and the jagged blades of painful memories had faded a little, I would sometimes look back on the events that took place during the thirtieth year of the ninth age, the Dragon Age, and wonder how it all began. My husband maintains that it was all the teyrn's fault, but I assure him with mild humor at his stubbornness, which has finally diminished from outright hatred, that it began long before the teyrn. With the sudden shifts in political power and the bitter wars from without and within, I was sure of only one thing, and that was that one man could not have been the catalyst to it all. If I wanted to use a broad, general view of the entire situation, I could have claimed that it started when prideful mages attempted to usurp the mantle of Heaven, when the Darkspawn were first cast into our world, when the Grey Wardens first appeared. But those are different stories, belonging to others and which I feel I have no full authority to comment on accurately. The only origin I can claim for certain is that of my own, and the only beginning I can see for sure is my beginning.

I was born to a tribe of the Dalish elves, nomadic beings who hold on to the old ways as tightly as they can, yet over the centuries it has become like trying to hold cupped water in your hands. The details trickle past your fingers before you can stop them, and more often than not it is as though we are ghosts, mere pale imitations and shadows of the proud creatures we had once been. Our lore is lost to us through the channels of time, and the most any of us can do is grasp at what fragments still remain. I believe that is one of the things that draws us so close to one another-the knowledge that all we still honestly have is each other, as even the truths about ourselves are in danger of being forgotten completely.

The name I was given is Ilysiade Mahariel, though I was not given it by my parents, who died long before I could even form tangible memories of them. I am told it means, among other things, "that which follows the moon", or simply "moon chaser", a tribute to my mother who, in the grief over losing my father, walked into the darkness and was never seen again. When I was very small I would sometimes sit by the river and stare up at the glowing orb suspended in night sky, wondering if its alluring light had somehow swallowed up my mother. I would then look at the reflection dancing on the river water, and thought if I could touch the moon I might be able to rescue my mother from whatever darkness she had been consumed by. All I got for my trouble was a near-drowning experience. I did not make that mistake again.

As we are a close-knit clan, I was seldom self-conscious of my lack of parents. My care was primarily overseen by a kind elven woman named Ashalle, and she was both a mother and a teacher to me, loving me and guiding me through the tumultuous and often ornery times of my youth. As a child I was even-tempered enough, but disliked being still for long periods of time and often left Ashalle's watch in pursuit of my own adventures. Keeper Marethari would scold me endlessly for my ways, stating that I was like a quickling caught in an elven body, that I needed to learn patience lest I grow old before my time. I was young enough that I easily shrugged off such scathing remarks. There were many other Dalish children to play and grow with, and we all entertained our own fancies of becoming great Dalish warriors one day. We listened with delight to the old tales our parents and grandparents and elders would spin, carefully omitting the lessons of caution from our rambunctious minds and instead focusing exclusively on the strength and heroics of our people. Collectively, we all grew with two notions firmly planted and sown into our heads: the first was to always respect and remember the past, for it is up to us to carry our half-forgotten lore into the next generation. The second was a general caution and disdain for all humans.

As a Dalish, I grew accustom to never remaining in one spot for very long. We are wanderers, rarely welcome anywhere for very long, and rather than fight what we all instinctively knew would be a losing war with the humans, we quietly resign ourselves to our ways and move frequently enough to not cause a disturbance. Uprooting our aravels and moving on was not always due to human contempt, as the changing in the seasons would also bring cause to shift our location. I hardly saw much of the transformations in nature that accompanied the traditional changing of the year as a child. Late spring days followed by summer permeated most my memories, and occasional signs of autumn are present, but usually we would relocate before the weather turned cold. I would often look forward to the moves, in spite of the amount of work it would take to ensure no one and nothing was ever left behind. It brought with it new places, or the returning to old places that were slightly changed by time spent away. It also brought with it one of the few times I was allowed to ride the halla with Ashalle, a pastime I enjoyed more than anything else as a small Dalish girl. The halla keeper, Maren, said I had a way with the beautiful creatures, that I was touched by Ghilan'nain, the mother of Halla, which is why they so enjoyed bearing me with them. The thought delighted me.

When I grew old enough to start really noticing the world around me, there was a presence of which I was always acutely aware. That presence was Tamlen, a Dalish boy a few years my senior who was nevertheless a few inches shorter than I as a child. He had hair the color of sawdust and light blue eyes to match my own, and I am told from the moment we laid eyes on each other and he playfully pulled a handful of my raven-colored locks, we were friends. Just as there was never a day without a dawn and never a night without twilight, there was never life without Tamlen being present or within calling distance. We listened to Hahren Paivel's stories together, played amongst the halla together, chose our Dalish brandings together, and more often than not got into mischief together. Yet there was an unbreakable code of childhood trust between the two of us, and no matter what the other did, we never informed the adults of the perpetrator's sins. Rather, we would commit them together.

However, when enough time passed, Tamlen and I came to the point where we began to grow apart. It was in my ninth year of life when the incident happened. Being older, Tamlen began to adopt a more protective attitude towards me, and soon his constant watching became more akin to orders and hindrance. I did not want to know the dangers of traversing through the Brecillian forest alone, or the risks of mishandling the hunter's weapons like they were toys, or the hazards associated with sneaking off to observe the human interlopers that occasionally passed by our camps. I wanted only the thrill of life and discovery, and his attempts to dissuade me from such actions I was willing to bet my river stone bracelets he would have committed himself frustrated me to the point of breaking. I grew so angry at him that I yelled at him one day and ordered him to leave me alone and never follow in my shadow again. After all, I was old enough to take care of myself, I reasoned. I regretted such words the moment I was playing with the other children by the lakeside. I slipped off the boulder I was crouching on and hit my head, tumbling into the water like a sack of stones. When I finally revived, I was certain the white light had drawn me to the Beyond where I would wander as a restless spirit. When my vision cleared, along with the water from my lungs, I was aware of two things; my head hurt like the blazes, and Tamlen was bending over me, trying to help. I will never forget the look of fear and concern on his face. Feeling too nauseated to walk, he carried me on his back all the way to our camp. I never wished him away again.

As one ages, one begins to shoulder the responsibilities that accompanies becoming an adult. I was nearing eighteen when Keeper Marethari said I finally had become elven enough to slow down and carefully observe the world around me. Time for me was spent less on games and adventures and more on deciding what I would become within my tribe. It is up to each of us to resolve where our path will take us, and we must choose something to our strengths, as to not become a burden on our family. We have herders and cooks, gatherers and herbalists, healers and hunters, blacksmiths and barterers. Tamlen and I had grown and changed again from what we were as children, but our bonds remained strong. In a way, it was as though our positions suddenly reversed, as I began cautioning him against recklessness and he and the other boys became more hot-headed and quick to fight or find trouble. Tamlen decided long before I that he would become a hunter. He grew tall, taller than I, taller even than most of the other young men in camp, and would occupy most of his time with archery practice and sparring with the other youths. He was quite skilled at it, and fast became one of the tribe's most promising hunters. I watched him one day practicing, noticing how strong he had become, how his skin had tanned under the sun, how his hands had grown rough from work and his eyes firm and determined. A strange feeling came over me, a sort of dizziness and fogginess that clouded my mind and made it difficult to look my closest friend in the eye over the next few days. I asked Ashalle if I was sick. She smiled and told me yes, but it was not the type of illness I should concern myself with too much. I listened to her, and gradually developed the ability to shrug off such feelings in Tamlen's presence, save for a fluttering in my gut.

My own path seemed harder to find than Tamlen's had been for him. Master Ilen said I lacked the appreciation to be a blacksmith within the tribe, which I heartily agreed with. I also lacked the will to learn to barter with the humans, the magic ability to assist Keeper Marethari as a healer, and even the desire to help with the halla. That which I felt most strongly for was to spend my time within the forest, flitting between the trees like a shadow amongst the leaves. Yet though I had the will, appreciation and desire to be a hunter, I did not have Tamlen's skill, and he progressed much faster than I. I was not untalented by any means, but rather I seemed to rush myself through my learnings. I had good reason to. Tamlen was at the point that he could become an official hunter before I was even close. Tamlen would be viewed as an adult amongst my people. I was viewed as still a child.

The night Tamlen brought home the trophies of his first successful hunt and officially became a Dalish hunter, I was sullen and withdrawn. I tried to be happy for him, as everyone else was, but my mixed emotions got the better of me. It was as though, to me, Tamlen was now at a place I could not reach yet, and no amount of rushing or hurrying would get me to that point any faster. He had grown in a way I had not. It made me feel lonely. He saw through my forced smile and sensed my lack of enthusiasm, though I evaded his questions for a few nights. Finally, when his pestering got the better of my strained state of mind, I admitted to him that I was shamefully jealous of his new position within the tribe. He was an adult, and could go with the hunters on real hunts, take up real responsibilities. Also, among other things, he was free to choose a wife now. I could not bind with a member of my clan until I was no longer seen as a child, and the thought of Tamlen picking a partner made me sad.

But Tamlen smiled at me and told me it was okay, that he would wait until I was also a recognized adult in the tribe before he chose a wife. I wasn't sure if he simply wanted to make me feel better, and never questioned him about it, but it was almost as though an unspoken promise was forged between us that night. For the time being, we let our friendship remain unchanged, and I no longer felt as sad.

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I always assumed I would spend my entire life with my clan. I never thought I would leave the forests we frequented or the places we grew up in. To me, the outside world beyond the vast trees did not fully exist, and whatever lay over the horizon in human territory was no concern of mine. I believed I would live with the Dalish elves that were my family, and I would die with them. I believed my life would consist of nomadic wandering, hunting game through the woods, listening to the past tales from the elders, learning from Keeper Marethari, and attending the Arlathvhen every decade with the other Dalish tribes to exchange greetings and acquired knowledge. Such things were my reality, my whole world, and I never imagined leaving them. Tamlen seemed to feel the same. He would often jokingly say to me that no matter what happened, he would always be there to carry me home after I fell. Like me, he never fathomed being separated from that which we knew.

Such things change.

Such things changed during the thirtieth year of the ninth age, during the Dragon Age, a time that prophets foresaw would bring about violent and dramatic changes for all of Thedas. Whether all of Thedas was truly affected, I cannot say. What I can say is that my world was affected, and everything I knew would fall away from me like the leaves from a grand oak tree. I would be cast into a realm and a role I would never have chosen for myself, and had I known what would become of me, I cannot honestly say whether I would have risen to my position or fled like a frightened child. I think that is why Fate is such a coy mistress. One does not choose such a path for themselves, one can only weather it to the best of their ability. Were we all aware of our destinations in life, of the trials and tribulations that awaited us, we would probably stop and get nowhere at all.

I think the day it truly all began for me was the best and worst day of my life.

It was the day I met Duncan.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Dragon Age: Origins**_

**_Last of the Elvhenan_**

**_Chapter Two: The Demon's Cavern_**

The day I met Duncan was both the best and the worst day of my life. It would bring about great change for me, change I was not willing to wholly submit to. It would bring about the end of all that I knew, loved and cherished. But it would also bring with it a beginning, and for that I must remain grateful, even now.

It was in the twenty-second year of my life when the day arrived. I still remember the warmth of the sun that filtered through the trees of the great and vast Brecillian forest. I can still recall the scent of spring that lingered on the softly blowing wind. I already felt that it would be a vagarious year for me, though I knew not to what extent, what adventures the coming days would hold, what experiences lie in wait. What I did know was that I had a strange feeling the morning of the incident, like the trembling of a sapling caught in a harsh wind. Soon, I would be caught in a gale storm of uncontrollable events that, had I been alone, would have left me broken.

The morning had been a fairly typical one. Tired of assisting Master Varathorn, I quickly conjured up some excuse or another to get out of my duties as early as elvenly possible. With assurances to Ashalle that I would return safely from the forest before nightfall, I donned my deerskin hunting leathers, grabbed a bow and quiver of arrows along with a couple Dar'Misu blades for extra safety, and set off into the shadowy trees in search of Tamlen. Fenarel, a friend of Tamlen's who he often sparred with, had told me before that Tamlen had gone on an early morning hunt alone. I was certain I could locate him. He and I had made something of a game of it over the past few years we'd both been training to become hunters. One of us would disappear into the forest, doing their best to cover their tracks, and the other would follow. While Tamlen was a better hunter than I, I had always been the better tracker, quicker to spot the telltale signs of passage and movement within the depths of the forest. With this game and his other assistances, I had been progressing in my training quickly, and I suspected that before the season ended I would be granted the chance to prove myself as a Dalish hunter, just as Tamlen had.

Our clan had situated themselves in the far northeastern parts of the Brecillian forest, where the terrain was wilder and more difficult to navigate over. It's said the Veil is not as thin here as in other parts of the forest, but I had little doubt that the threat of wandering spirits existed everywhere. The history of the untamed Brecillian forest was long and bloody, and the Veil separating our world from the Beyond was so thin there are parts where it became _setheneran_-one could not tell where waking ended and dreaming began. It was perhaps foolish of Tamlen and I, so young in mind and heart, to ever think we knew and respected the forest well enough to be able to pass safely through its depths.

In spite of the thick trees and thin, winding paths, I found Tamlen's trail fairly easily and began to follow it at a leisurely pace, taking my time as an elf should, because I was certain I would find Tamlen soon. True enough, I eventually sensed his presence nearby, as tangibly as I had since I was a child, and heard his familiar voice ringing softly through the trees.

"...are somewhere you shouldn't be."

I was surprised at first. Tamlen was not speaking in our tongue, the soft, flowing tongue of the Dalish, which we sometimes still struggled to recall, each decade adding more words to our repertoire with every Arlathvhen. He was speaking in the quick, heavy tongue of the shemlen, inelegant and clumsy-sounding by comparison. After the fall of the Dales, our tribes learned the shem language by formality only, a formality our Keepers begrudgingly upheld in hopes of keeping racial tension between our peoples as low as possible when we happened to cross paths. I disliked the language, and used it as little as possible. So, I knew for fact, did Tamlen.

"Let us by, elf!" an unfamiliar voice suddenly shouted. "You have no right to stop us."

"No?" Tamlen replied in a dangerous whisper. "We shall see about that, won't we?"

His back came into view, his arms pulling his bow taught, an arrow trained on three bedraggled humans who glowered at him with a mixture of apprehension and contempt. Crossing the remaining space between us swiftly, I drew my own bow and fixed an arrow on the three intruders, appearing beside Tamlen as silently and suddenly as a shadow. The three humans had been anxious under the threatening gaze of one Dalish. With two, their fear was now palpable.

Tamlen cast a sideways glance at me upon my arrival. "You're just in time, lethallan," he said calmly, speaking to me once again in our native tongue, causing the humans even more discomfort. They did not possess the same courtesy we Dalish do, and few bother to learn even a handful of our words, let alone enough to become fluent. "I found these humans lurking within the forest. The are undoubtedly bandits."

"They will cause trouble, lethallin," I cautioned impassively. "Better to be rid of them now."

The humans did not understand our conversation, but it was not difficult for them to pick up on our obvious disdain for their presence. One quickly began babbling fearfully, a clumsy plea for us not to harm any of them, a plea that elicited no pity from either Tamlen or myself.

"Pathetic," Tamlen said coolly to the humans. "I will never understand how you shemlen managed to drive us from our homelands, not once, but twice." The fall of Arlathan and the reneging of the Dales were both tales all of us knew well.

"We-we've never done anything to you Dalish!" the human protested. "We didn't even know this forest was yours!"

"This forest isn't ours, fool. You've stumbled too close to our camp. You shem are like vermin-we cannot trust you not to make mischief. What do you say, lethallan?" Tamlen asked without bothering to switch dialect, a sign to the humans that their fates were firmly in our hands this time. "What should we do with them?"

My expression caused another of the humans to speak up quickly, a tone a pitch higher than the man would probably normally have used. "Look, we didn't come here to cause trouble, by the Maker I swear! We found a cave, with ruins like we've never seen. We thought there might be...ah..."

"Treasure?" Tamlen finished for him. "So you are more akin to thieves than bandits."

"We're not bandits, we were just exploring the cave, and-"

I addressed the human directly for the first time. His language was bitter on my tongue, and I spoke it with less ease than Tamlen did, my flowing accent slightly more pronounced. "We know this forest well. There is no cave. You lie."

"We have proof!" One of the humans moved his hand to a satchel tied to his hip, an action that caused our arrows to pull tighter, warningly. He produced something and carefully placed it on the ground a few steps ahead of the others. "We found this, just inside the entrance." Tamlen pulled the object forward with his foot, and examined it while I kept my mark checked on the three would-be treasure hunters. I glanced at the artifact only once. It was a small statue of a woman, with antlers like a halla, the moon under her right foot, and two hares beside her. The base of the statue was covered in strange markings I could not identify, but Tamlen could.

"Is this...elvish? _Written_ elvish?"

I knew of few things our clan or any of the clans possessed that contained our written language, which none but the Keepers could translate. I asked Tamlen how he recognized it, and he told me he had seen something similar on Keeper Marethari's scrolls.

"There's more in the ruins," the human pressed on, hopeful now that he had caught us off guard. "We would have looked further, but we didn't get very far in."

"Why not?" I asked.

"There was a demon! A huge, ferocious thing, eyes as black as darkness, and teeth and claws like knives! Thank the Maker, we were just barely able to outrun it."

Tamlen scoffed at the idea of a demon, but inquired as to where the cave was located.

"Off to the west, I think," the human said hesitantly. "Follow the narrow path in the trees, and you come to a rock face, with a hole just inside. It leads to the cave."

Tamlen and I knew the area well, but knew of no cave we had ever seen. It was more probable, I thought, that they were lying to us, as any human commonly would. Yet the humans must have gotten the elven artifact from somewhere. It was a curiosity, at the very least, and one we weren't willing to ignore.

There were still the humans to deal with, however. "Well?" Tamlen asked me cautiously in our own dialect, unsure now that the situation had yielded a strange surprise. "Do you trust them? Should we let them go?"

"So the can bring in the mob to drive us out?" I replied with neither malice nor pity. It was a simple statement: "Kill them."

Three arrows flew, and their bodies fell accordingly. It was a hasty decision, made in ignorance on both my part and Tamlen's. We did not know enough about humans outside our legends to feel anything other than mild repugnance. It wasn't murder by our logic; just as a human farmer feels nothing for killing the locusts that devour their crops, we felt no passion or regret for removing that which we saw only as a nuisance. We stepped over their bodies without a backward glance. The forest would consume them.

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The humans had run clumsily through the brush, and once Tamlen and I started out west together, we located their trail without difficulty. Tamlen held the small statue as we walked, examining it from every angle. It was a pretty little thing, and looked old, very old. He ran his thumb over the elvish words engraved at the base, a deferential action.

"Imagine if the shems were telling the truth about this cave," he said to me, placing the statue carefully in a deerskin bag tied to his belt. "Maybe there are other artifacts within, something greater we could take back to the clan. Some lost lore of our people, some ancient relic forgotten for centuries until we uncovered it."

"Keeper Marethari would be pleased," I agreed, smiling at the growing excitement in his voice.

"Yes," Tamlen said, "and perhaps then she would forgive me for...well, all that had happened."

My smile was more sympathetic now. Keeper Marethari had been cross with Tamlen for some time now after he was caught brawling with several others. The childhood code between the two of us still existed as strongly now as it ever had, and in spite of being punished, Tamlen had not given any names of those who were with him.

"Thank you for covering for me, Tamlen."

"Of course," Tamlen shrugged off the remark. "You know I would do anything for you, lethallan."

I knew.

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It didn't take us very long to find the cave. A small worn path twisted beside the rock face and disappeared into the opening of a hole in the cliff side. Tamlen and I both recognized the area, had passed by it before, but had never noticed the tunnel. Descending down into it, we arrived at the opening to the cave, which seemed to lead into the dusty remains of what looked like ruins of some sort. It looked as though the shem had been telling us the truth, though the ruins appeared to be more of human make than elven. Why an elven relic would have been located there, I did not know.

Amidst the crumbling rocks and boulders, there were stones and pillars that had been carefully carved and placed for support and to create the walls and rooms the ruins consisted of. Ancient pathways and corridors had been hollowed out through the rock, leading to derelict chambers that had probably been very impressive at one point in time. Now, they hung thick with cobwebs and the cocoons of vast spiders storing away some unfortunate creature for a midday snack. Whatever had once existed before had long been abandoned to the unyielding yoke of time.

"What is this place?" I asked softly, cautiously, for the air was heavy and gave a sense that something should not be carelessly disturbed. If nothing else, we didn't need the Giant Spiders coming to try and make a snack out of us.

"I don't know," was Tamlen's reply. "It looks like it might have been a place where people lived. There are enough bones to suggest as much," he added with a nod towards the various scattered piles that appeared as though they had been there for ages, long before the spiders. "But the architecture is human. Why would elven artifacts be here?"

"Could they have been slaves to humans?" I suggested, but Tamlen didn't seem to agree with the thought. After all, it took a long time for the shemlen slavery to steal our history from us. The signs of both the humans and the elves we saw suggested a less violent past, but there was never a time that I remembered where humans and elves were said to have coexisted peacefully in caves.

In spite of our careful treading, we soon alerted the oversized arachnids lurking about to our presence, and were engaged in a few skirmishes in order to ensure we didn't end up as their next meal. Giant Spiders were the least of our worries. We had dealt with them before, and they were common in the darker places of the Brecillian forest, where the Veil was thinner and could cause such creatures to grow to such sizes. With my bow and twin Dar'Misu and Tamlen's bow and long sword, even the trickiest of them proved to be little of a challenge. No, there was something else that made us speak in barely above a whisper, to tread cautiously over every path, to warily remain as close as possible to one another. Something in the shadows, in the very air itself. Something that told us we should not be there.

But as Tamlen said time and time again, a Dalish hunter fears nothing, and thus we pressed on. Whatever secrets the place concealed, we were imprudently determined to uncover them.

We reached a narrow hallway when Tamlen stopped. I thought at first he had become wearied from our last short battle with the Giant Spiders, when a particularly violent one had entangled him in a thrown web and charged. It was slowed by several of my arrows, but not stopped, and only when it drew close and I swung my hunting bow violently at it's disgusting head with all my might, resulting in a satisfying crunch, did it fall. However, Tamlen's attention was not drawn from fatigue, but rather by a statue.

"I can't believe this," he said, reaching for it reverently. "You recognize this statue, don't you?"

I studied it. It was worn and fractured in some areas, but appeared to be the statue of a figure, standing proudly with arms outstretched. I was certain I had seen something vaguely familiar before. Upon a few moments of reflection, I did recognize it. It was a statue of Falon'Din, one of our gods, known as the Friend of the Dead and he who guided our peoples' souls across the spirit realm and into the Beyond.

"Back when our people lived in Arlathan, statues like these honored the Creators," Tamlen said as we both stood respectfully before Falon'Din. "This looks like human architecture...but with a statue dedicated to our people." He frowned. "Could these ruins date back to the time of Arlathan?"

"How could they?" I asked. "We are nowhere near Arlathan. In all our tales and lost lore, neither Hahren Paivel nor Keeper Marethari ever mentioned a time when humans and elves lived together in caves."

"Yet that seems to be what this statue suggests, don't you think?" he asked. "Why else would a statue of our kin be built and located in a human ruin?"

I could not answer that question any more than he could.

A sudden movement in the close passage drew our attention away from the statue. For a fleeting second, I thought that others had appeared around us, perhaps beings who still lived within the ruins and had heard us disturbing the sculpture of the old spirit shepherd, coming to answer our questions and assuage our confusion. However, while they indeed inhabited the ruins, the creatures before us were no longer living. The corpses and skeletons that had crudely decorated the ground leapt to their feet and surrounded us, raking at us with sharp bone fingers and hissing out of gaping decayed maws. A flash of horror overtook my mind and was only broken by Tamlen's cry as he readied his sword. I abandoned any thought of using my bow in such close quarters and grabbed my twin elven blades. We stood back to back to engage the fiends. Tamlen's sword offered him strength and greater reach, but my dual weapons were quicker and my battle style was more precise.

I do not know what caused their initial deaths, but I do know that killing the undead a second time is much more difficult than the first. Psychological fear of fighting walking corpses aside, they did not bleed, and were more resistant to physical trauma than a living creature would have been. It wasn't simply a matter of wounding the monster enough that it fell-we had to hack each and every one of them into pieces to ensure they did not rise again to continue their assault. To make matters worse, the ruins weren't lacking in possessed corpses, while there were only two of us. Neither relished the idea of adding our bones to their numbers, and we fought with growing desperation.

The hallway we were currently in had connected to the previous chamber by way of two entrances, causing it to wrap around as a long tunnel and meet in the middle where the statue was located. This offered two paths from which the skeletons were coming, catching Tamlen and I from both fronts. The second path, the one we had not used to get to the statue, was far more dilapidated than the first. Chunks of the walls and ceiling littered the ground, exposing part of a support pillar that was tilting hazardously to the side. As Tamlen and I viciously cut down the enemies around us, more and more of them began clawing their way through the second passage in an attempt to flank us. This caused a sudden thought to strike my mind. It was perhaps not a very wise one, but Tamlen and I were both becoming exhausted from being vastly outnumbered, and while we could hold our own, we could not last forever. With as much speed as I could gather in the close quarters, I ran and threw my entire weight against the leaning pillar, the stone support crumbling far more easily than I would have expected. It must have been very old to give way so readily, but I had not noticed that near the top it was cracked almost all the way through. The pillar fell, and I stumbled back as rocks and loose stones cascaded down upon the approaching skeletons, blocking off the second path completely. Yet it didn't stop there. The hallway we were in began to tremble, and the sudden fear that perhaps the old ruins were less sturdy than I initially thought crossed my mind. Tamlen grabbed my hand and dragged me into a door across from the statue of Falon'Din that I had not noticed before, throwing it open and slamming it shut behind us. We listened, breathing heavily and coughing a bit on kicked-up dirt, but the trembling stopped and silence lingered in the air along with the clouds of dust. We waited, but no more skeletons seemed to be approaching.

"Walking corpses," Tamlen said after he steadied his breathing. "This place is haunted! Something must have happened here...enough people must have died to make this place a land of waking dreams. The Veil is so thin that spirits were able to-what is it, lethallan?"

He had released my hand when he closed the door behind us, but I was now grasping his wrist tightly and looking into the chamber we had just entered. He turned and followed my gaze.

I had wondered since entering the cave if perhaps the Giant Spiders were the "demons" the humans had been frightened off by. After all, I reasoned, shems are probably less capable of dealing with such creatures. Yet now I saw that was not the case. The room Tamlen and I had run in to was free of skeletons, but something greater was prowling about. Something large and vicious, with eyes blacker than the surrounding darkness, teeth and claws like knives, and a towering, powerful body. Were I to choose something to liken the beast to, I suppose it would have been a bear, but I think the term "demon" fits. I assume the only reason it had not already disemboweled us both was because our sudden entrance had startled it.

It overcame that quickly, and stood on its hind legs, towering over us at full height and letting loose a dreadful growling noise that caused my skin to prickle. Then it charged.

Tamlen and I both darted in opposite directions as the demon-bear attacked. The crazed beast made up what little mind it possessed, and as I spun around I saw it chasing down Tamlen. Resheathing my blades in my belt, I tore my hunting bow from my back and fired as rapidly as I could, shouting at the beast to try and draw its attention. Yet its skin was thick, with bones protruding like spikes from beneath thin, wiry hair. Even after I had riddled it with various arrows, it seemed to hardly notice.

Tamlen ducked a swipe from a clawed arm that shattered the stones in the wall, bringing his long sword up across his chest in an attempt to block a second blow that flung him backwards. He stumbled to his feet, ducked another strike, and dashed forward in an attempt to put distance between himself and the creature, scrambling around a glittering structure that sat in the very center of the room. My shouting, along with the creature's own roaring, echoed through the small spaces and seemed to confuse the monster, and it thrashed and galloped about in an unpredictable frenzy. With long, full bodied-strides, it was upon me before I could even fully react.

"Ilysiade!"

I skipped back a pace to avoid a violent blow. Grabbing two arrows from my quiver, I fired them simultaneously at the demon-bear's forehead, where they struck deep and remained. The creature roared and again stood on its back legs, its forepaws raised threateningly. My next arrow struck it in the throat, resulting in a horrid gagging noise that cut its fierce cry short.

Tamlen was in front of me in an instant, and he threw himself forward to skewer the creature with his blade, ripping upward with as much strength as he could. A brackish, foul-smelling liquid drenched his arms and torso, thicker than blood and tainted with an evil scent. He released his blade and jumped back as the creature fell. It did not rise again.

"By the Creators," Tamlen gasped, when enough time had passed that we were sure the monster was dead. "What _was_ that?"

"Whatever it was," I said shakily, "it was evil. Tainted. Some spirit must have possessed and twisted the creature; no monster like that could have been born in this forest."

"Perhaps whatever force caused the corpses to walk also warped that thing." Tamlen shook his head. He may have been remembering the humans' terrified words, for he mumbled, "Demon, indeed."

"Walking undead, demon creatures, Giant Spiders," I shivered as if cold. "The Veil is so thin here, thinner than anywhere else I have seen in the forest. This place is...wrong. Let's get out of here."

Tamlen agreed, and we would have left right away had he not stopped to try and retrieve his sword. While he did so, I glanced around the chamber, and my eyes settled upon the shiny structure that sat in the middle of the room. I had been so focused on the demon that I hadn't even noticed it before, and now that I studied it, I realized what it was. It was a stone structure that sat upon a square dais, with two figures much bigger than Tamlen or I supporting a large glass mirror between them. There were ancient inscriptions and writings scrawled across the edges, much like the ones on the small statue Tamlen carried. Unlike everything else in the ruins, it was not marred by age. No cracks ran along the stone or the glass, no deep grooves spoiled its perfect structure. In fact, it looked almost as though the years it had been concealed within the dark ruins had done no harm to it whatsoever.

Tamlen, having finally recovered his blade, stood beside me and looked up at it. There appeared to be a cool, glittering light dancing along its surface, like the water of a pool bathed in moonlight. Oddly enough, our reflections in the mirror's surface were dull and strangely unfocused. Though the desire to leave that dank place was strong within me, the desire to examine the structure proved stronger, as if some force greater than polite curiosity was drawing me in.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Tamlen said softly. "I wonder what the writing says."

"I don't know, though perhaps the Keeper could translate it." I frowned. "Odd, that it isn't broken like everything else around here, especially with that...creature lumbering about."

Tamlen made a noise in agreement. His expression was contemplative. "I wish I could read it. Maybe it isn't even-wait, did you see that?" His eyes were fixed on the mirror's shimmering surface. They narrowed slightly. "I think something moved inside the mirror."

"_Inside_ the mirror?"

"Look, don't you see it? There it is again."

"I don't see anything, lethallin..."

"You're not looking closely enough. See, right there..."

He stepped forward, onto the raised surface of the dais. I peered closely. I thought I saw something flicker across the mirror's face, like a ripple.

"Can you feel that?" Tamlen asked me. "I...I think it knows we're here..."

I did feel it, and I didn't like the feeling. Something wasn't right. A sudden chill went skipping down my spine. "Get away from it, Tamlen..."

"I just want to take a closer look..."

He reached his hand out and brushed the mirror's glassy plane. It quivered under his touch, like a stone disturbing the water. His blue eyes were curious and intense. Our reflections vanished, replaced with nothing but silver light.

"It's...showing me places," Tamlen said. "I can see a great city, underground. There are things moving about, and...there's a great blackness...something bigger, drawing closer..."

I could not see such things from where I was, and began to draw closer, but the cold feeling caused me to pause.

Tamlen's body suddenly tensed, his hand rigid upon the mirror's glass. "It saw me..." His blue eyes grew wide, his voice strained and fearful. "It saw me! Help...! I can't look away!"

"Tamlen!"

I reached for him, too late. I remember a flash of light, my body struck by a sudden force, and then nothing.

I think I had a dream. There was a face floating above me, dark-skinned and strong. Someone was speaking to me in a voice I did not know, questioning me, apologizing. Someone was carrying me. Tamlen, I thought.

Tamlen...


	3. Chapter 3

_**Dragon Age: Origins**_

**_Last of the Elvhenan_**

**_Chapter Three: Darkspawn_**

There have been several times in my life when I have been thoroughly convinced I was dead. After all, the one thing commonplace about death with all cultures and peoples is the supposed presence of a white light just before your soul slips away. We Dalish believe it is taken to the Beyond where, if you are lucky, you are offered careful guidance through the spirit realm to peace by the Friend of the Dead. After two counts of nearly drowning and a run-in with an evil mirror, I believed my time had finally come. I could evade the greedy grasp of death no longer.

Yet it was not Falon'Din I saw when my consciousness returned, nor was it the realm of spirits. Images were bleary around me as I blinked and rubbed my eyes to regain focus, but they were images of the mortal world, of that I was groggily certain. A familiar face was suspended above me, and after a few moments I was able to identify the being who was grasping my hand and squeezing the life out of it.

"Ashalle," I murmured.

Her hair had grayed over the years and there were lines around her mouth and eyes that had not been present when I was a child, yet her ever-worrisome expression was utterly unchanged since the days of my youth. Both her small hands were tightly wrapped around my pale one that lay resting on blankets, and it was remarkable the sensation of her holding it had not awakened me sooner. I could scarcely feel my fingertips.

"Ilysiade," she breathed, then _da'len_, meaning 'child'. "You're awake at last. Oh, you have the God's own luck, regardless of whether they can hear us or not, surely my prayers have been answered, that you are awake and sensible again."

There are certain times when one's mind moves at an incredibly slow pace. It was taking me some time to realize where exactly I was and what was around me. Ashalle was at my side, and she was not the only one. Fenarel stood nervously towards the front of the room, looking down at me with concern. I was within the keeper's aravel, one of the few landships with a large tent attached to the back that was not used to store supplies when we were settled, but rather was the Keeper's own personal living area. My body was resting on a small cot spread out with hand-sewn blankets and a comforter made from the skin of a halla felled by age. A cool cloth lay against my forehead, and I had been stripped of my hunting leathers and now lay in regular Dalish garments that were slightly damp with sweat. The gentle sounds of familiar elven voices were guided in with the wind through a window flap in the aravel's tent. I was home.

"What's going on?" I asked wearily. Ashalle's eyes were slightly red around their rims and the tip of her nose was pink. "You look...what's wrong, Ashalle?"

"Do you not remember?" Fenarel asked, drawing slightly closer to my side, cautiously, as though worried he might harm me by any quick or loud movement. "You were found in the forest, stricken with fever and delirious. You've been very ill for several days now, everyone's been worried sick about you."

"We did not know if you would live or die," Ashalle whispered, her voice shaking slightly. "The Keeper has been using the old magics to heal you, but even with her assistance, you barely clung to life. She said she could do no more, and last night you were at your worst. All of us feared we would lose you before the dawn, but...you had strength within you left, child." One of her hands pried itself off my own and reached for my cheek. "I am so relieved to see your eyes open."

Her touch was comforting and her voice was soothing enough that I did not fully understand the gravity of the situation. I was warm and safe under my blankets, and the peaceful temptation of sleep was still trying to lull me back into quiet oblivion. It was only when I looked back to Fenarel did something in my mind snap back into place. I had been found in the forest and brought back to the camp. I had been in the forest. I remembered. I had been with Tamlen, but he was not by my side now.

Ashalle was startled when I forcefully pushed myself up into a sitting position. "Tamlen," I croaked, my voice cracking a little. "Where is Tamlen?"

Fenarel and Ashalle both exchanged looks. "We don't know," Fenarel said softly. "The human who brought you back saw no sign of him."

"_Ae shemlan_?" I repeated. "A _human_ brought me back?"

"He was a Grey Warden," Fenarel explained, increasing my surprise even more. There were tales of the Grey Wardens that I had heard before. Honorable, peerless warriors, made up of humans and elves and even dwarves, noble knights who protected everyone yet owed their allegiance to no one. I thought they had all but disappeared. "He appeared out of nowhere with you slung over his shoulder, claiming to have found you outside a cave in the forest, alone and only just conscious. He left you to the Keeper's healing arts and then disappeared into the trees again."

My mind was struggling to process everything I was being told and what I could remember. This caused it to ache, so I stopped and looked desperately to Fenarel.

"Is anyone out looking for Tamlen?"

"Of course!" Fenarel seemed almost incited by the question. "Most of the hunters are out looking for him right now, have been looking for him since you were brought back here days ago. Those that aren't helping to pack camp," he added.

"We're _leaving_?"

"Keeper Marethari has ordered the clan to pack up camp. We are to be moving north soon," answered Ashalle.

I stared at her a moment, disbelieving. Then I looked to the window, the morning's pale blue sky just barely visible through an overcast of cloud. There was talk of leaving, but somewhere out there, beyond the trees, Tamlen was missing. Images from the dark ruins darted through my head, along with the fear in his voice with the last words he spoke to me, and I threw back my covers.

"Wait, child!" Ashalle put a hand to my shoulder.

"I'm going to look for Tamlen," I replied resolutely, pushing her hand away.

"Wait," Fenarel echoed. "The Keeper wanted to see you if you awoke. Sit back a moment, I'll go get her."

I obeyed, but reluctantly. I wanted to move. I wanted to go out and look for my clan brother, to bring him home and forget the dreadful things we'd seen in the cave and ruins. A voice inside whispered to me that something was very wrong, and I wanted to go out and prove that horrible little feeling incorrect.

Keeper Marethari soon entered the aravel, bidding Fenarel to return to his duties in helping pack the camp. She would have sent Ashalle away, too, had Ashalle not looked so very concerned over my health and condition. The keeper was a small old elven woman, but with an edge that quietly commanded obedience. Her hair was white and her intricate Dalish markings had faded with the years, but her eyes and mind were as sharp as ever. She could be stern and curt, and sometimes difficult to bear with despite her overall fair ways, but looking back on it I think that was because she must be. She carried with her the responsibility for all of us, and I know she took each pain we individually suffered to heart as though it had been a blow to her personally. She worried over us, cared for us and guided us in our nomadic ways, and would often have to make tough decisions for our sake. She was like a dam holding back a river-uncompromising because she had to.

"I see you are finally awake, child," she said to me. "It is fortunate Duncan found you when he did."

"Duncan," I looked at her questionably. "He was the human who found me then?"

"He was indeed, and it was your good luck that he happened to stumble upon you. I know not what dark power held you, but it nearly bled the life from you. It was difficult for even my magic to keep you alive. Had it not been for Duncan, you fate would have been far grimmer than I care to imagine."

"But he did not see Tamlen?" I asked.

"He did not, and we have had no luck in finding him. If Tamlen encountered the same thing you did, then is condition is grave."

It was plain that the thought of Tamlen out there somewhere, lost and alone and very sick, crossed all our minds.

"Duncan said he found you outside a cave within the forest, one we were unaware of." Keeper Marethari continued calmly, perhaps because the silence that allowed for such thoughts was too much for any of us. "He also said there may have been Darkspawn creatures lurking inside it. Is this true, child?"

"I'm not sure, Keeper. What does a Darkspawn look like?"

"Like a man, but dark and tainted with evil. If you encountered and fought such twisted beings, it may explain your illness. It is said that the blood of Darkspawn is a poison, and may sicken those who come into contact with it carelessly, or for long periods of time."

I closed my eyes and put my hands to my face. Through my fingertips, I told Keeper Marethari of the ruins and the creatures Tamlen and I had fought, of the Giant Spiders and the undead monsters, and of the demon-bear within the last room. Ahsalle had moved closer beside me, and her hand was gripping my shoulder tightly.

Keeper Marethari shook her head. "Spiders and skeletons...dark magic, but not Darkspawn. The Veil may have been thin enough there that spirits roamed in abundance to possess the bodies, which would explain the walking corpses. As to what the other creature was, I cannot say. What else did you find? What is the last thing you remember?"

Slowly, I explained the statues we had seen and the stone dais with the large, glittering mirror. I struggled to recall every small detail I could remember about it. The carved inscriptions, the cool light, the strange feeling the mirror gave me, how it rippled when Tamlen touched it and the things he claimed he saw reflected in its glass. His voice as he cried out for my help echoed in my mind, and my chest tightened.

"A mirror?" Ashalle whispered when I had finished. She had been silent during the Keeper's interrogations and my own descriptions, but now spoke. "A _mirror_ caused all of this to happen?"

"A mirror," Keeper Marethari repeated thoughtfully. "I have never heard of such a thing in all the lost lore we have collected. An ancient artifact, perhaps elven judging by your description, perhaps not...but nevertheless a dangerous item..." She closed her eyes a moment, then sighed and looked to the mouth of the tent, leading into the aravel's main body. Whether she was studying the objects and belongings and artifacts she had pinned with care along the walls or whether she saw nothing in particular at all, I could not say for sure. "This is all so frustrating. I was hoping for answers when you awoke, but there are only more questions, none of which have become any clearer at all. We have less hope of understanding all that has occurred, and less hope of finding Tamlen, and we are running out of time."

"Keeper," I said, "is it true we are leaving soon?"

She turned back to me. "It is, child."

"How can the clan possibly think of leaving when Tamlen is missing?"

"If there is any truth to what Duncan has said about Darkspawn, then they may show up in this area soon. Duncan came here in search of we Dalish, bearing news that the human king is amassing an army in the south, where Darkspawn sightings have been confirmed. Whether the king can keep them at bay or not matters little-we must move north to avoid that hoard. However, that is not the only reason," she added, and her eyes narrowed as she looked down at me strictly. "Tell me, child, did you and Tamlen encounter any other humans within the forest?"

It was a common practice of Keeper Marethari to ask a question she already knew the answer to, and to do so in such a way that made it clear that answering with anything but the truth was a hazardous risk. This instilled in all of us a habitual honesty more out of fear of consequence than personal pride. "Yes, Keeper," I replied, "Tamlen and I encountered three of them we thought to be bandits and thieves. We killed them."

The Keeper seemed satisfied by my answer and nodded her head once, but her expression became somber. "So I feared. You have stirred up a hornet's nest, child. It did not slip the human village's notice that they had not returned from the forest. They know we are here, and they blame us all for your actions. Before they visit us with vengeance in their hearts, we must move on, and quickly."

"But we cannot leave without Tamlen!"

"We have more than half the hunters out searching for him now. If we can find him, we will, but we cannot linger here any longer."

"Let me look for him, too," I pleaded.

"Ilysiade!" Ashalle looked as though the request was out of the question. "You are still recovering from being ill! You need rest, my dear."

I ignored her. "Please, Keeper, let me go. I can find him. I will find him. Please, I will bring him home. Please."

Keeper Marethari considered me for a moment. Her eyes were still narrowed, but the harshness had been replaced by contemplation. She spoke slowly, "If you feel well enough..."

"I feel fine," I interrupted her train of thought, standing up from the cot to prove my point. This was not wholly true, but I did not care. I would not, could not, sit by and do nothing and hope for the best. Not with the thought of Tamlen, hurt or sick or worse, ringing through my mind with every beat of my heart. It was either my sincerity or my stubbornness that won her over, for after a few moments, the Keeper nodded.

"All right," she agreed softly. "You may go, but you may not go alone. Take Merrill with you. Find Tamlen if you can, but do it swiftly."

"I will," I answered. "I promise."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ashalle fussed over me and reluctantly fetched me my hunting leathers, which I scrambled into and buckled quickly. My fingers were shaking, but whether it was from sickness or apprehension, I cannot say. I wasted no time grabbing my Dar'Misu blades, and was about to take my bow when Ashalle stopped me.

"Here," she said, handing me a sturdier one of finer make that she must have grabbed when she brought my leathers. "One of Master Ilen's. It will serve you better, I think, than the one you crafted."

I took it and thanked her, and she responded with "Just make sure you return to us safely this time, Ilysiade."

Outside the Keeper's aravel, things were a mass of movement and activity. Children rushed around looking for lost toys or misplaced treasures with the fear of them being left behind. Adults were packing up their cots and tents, taking down their wash and arranging their personal belongings so they would be safely stored within the other landships. Mothers scolded their young for complaining about the move or constantly getting underfoot. Fathers and sons gathered bushels of wood and hay to be tied together so we would be supplied when we set up our next camp. Maren was tending to the halla, taking care to make sure they were fully prepared to bear the clan north. Everyone was doing something or trying to be somewhere, yet even with all the motion going on around me, the place was surprisingly quiet with half the hunters gone. There was none of the lively chatter that usually accompanied a move. People were subdued in their talk, as most of the conversation strayed to our lost lethallin, and the dread of what would happen if he could not soon be found.

I walked swiftly as I could from the Keeper's aravel and through the camp, pausing only once to ask Hahren Paivel where Merrill was. I was subjected to a tirade about my foolish thoughtlessness and the results of my reckless curiosity before he pointed me in the right direction. I thanked him with somewhat less politeness than I would have normally used, and had not gone a dozen paces when I heard someone else calling out to me, though with none of the elder's brusqueness. I turned to see Fenarel running towards me, also in his hunting gear and with his bow strapped to his back.

"Has the Keeper allowed you to go out and help look for Tamlen?" He asked when he caught up to me.

"Yes," I answered. "I am going with Merrill."

"I want to go with you," he said quickly. "I can help you find him, and it will be safer with the three of us."

I frowned. Keeper Marethari probably would not approve, not with the work needed to be done at camp, and not with the danger that lurked within the forest. When I said as much, Fenarel's expression turned adamant.

"If Merrill can risk it, so can I! Tamlen's my friend too, and I want to find him just as much as everyone else." I said nothing, and a look of anger flashed through his eyes. "Let me go with you! It will be safer than just sending the two of you off alone. Besides, if Tamlen is as sick as you were, you'll need someone with enough strength to carry him back when we do find him. You know Merrill is too small, and you are still not fully recovered. Let me come with you."

I could tell Fenarel was no more willing to give in to me than I was willing to give in to Keeper Marethari, and his determination looked as sound as mine. With some resignation, I nodded my head.

"All right," I said, "but try to be discreet. Merrill won't be any more willing to agree than the Keeper would."

Merrill was located by the southern end of the camp, where she was overseeing some of the work that was being done. She was a small and slight creature, even by elven standards, with angular features and the same cool expression the Keeper would sometimes wear, though with a trace of haughtiness she had possessed since we were both young. Perhaps it was because she was the Keeper's apprentice, or perhaps it was because she was talented in magics that others of us lacked, but she was often serious-minded and viewed the rest of us as though we were children, in spite of her being nearly two years my junior. Her clothes and belongings always had a very austere look to them, but her presence was one that became noticeable the moment she stepped outside her tent in the morning, particularly when she would make her voice snap in an enviously similar manner to Keeper Marethari's. I was never overly fond of Merrill, and she was never overly fond of me, but we regarded each other with a tolerance befitting clan sisters despite the core differences in our personalities.

For once, however, she seemed to me the wiser on a fundamental level. Had she been in my shoes, she would have wasted no time returning to camp to inform the Keeper of the cave.

Merrill's sharp eyes passed to Fenarel and I when we approached, and she turned away from the other clan members she had been issuing commands to without restraint, her staff doubling as a pole used to point and lead behind her crisp orders. The roughly hewn piece of wood seemed too large for her small hands, but she clutched it tightly at all times, a cathartic action I thought was more a happy reminder to us all what she could do with that staff when confronted. She spoke with impassive authority when we leveled with her.

"The Keeper has told me I am to accompany you in your search for Tamlen," she said. "As her apprentice, I may see something you may miss. More importantly, my magic may help guard us from whatever sickness you were stricken with, and may help Tamlen, should we find him."

I disliked the quiet doubt in her voice that Fenarel had not possessed, but did not mention it. "Come then," I said as I walked past her briskly, "we must make haste."

"Wait-I was under the impression it would just be the two of us."

Fenarel had fallen in step behind Merrill and I, but had stopped when she pinned him with her gaze. "Fenarel is coming along with us," I said simply. "Come on, while daylight lasts."

Merrill did not move, and Fenarel remained checked by her eye. "Did Keeper Marethari approve of his coming along?"

"I did not ask, for I felt his accompanying us would prove more of an asset than a hindrance. Fenarel is a hunter, better at moving about the forest than you, in any case."

Merrill pursed her lips, and I felt a familiar well of impatience that reflected sharply in my voice. "Stop standing about, we waste time like this. Stay here and debate the matter if you must, I am going to look for Tamlen."

They both caught up with my quickened stride. "It is on your head," Merrill muttered to me, but gave no more objection.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

While traveling through the thick trees, I recapitulated to my clan mates what had happened in the ruins Tamlen and I discovered. As I figured it, if any sign of Tamlen was to be found, it would be best to start at the cave, and I wanted both Merrill and Fenarel to be prepared for whatever may lie within those caverns. Merrill was intrigued by my descriptions of the elven artifacts and the strange mirror, and paid less heed than Fenarel to my mentioning the undead and the monsters. Either she was confident enough in our abilities that her interest outweighed her caution or she simply lacked Fenarel's nervousness. I never knew Merrill to show fear.

Our progress through the forest was slower than it had been when I first sought out Tamlen. A rain the eve of the first night I had lain ill and unconscious had washed away any remnants of our trail, making it difficult to navigate correctly through the underbrush. Fenarel explained that the clan hunters had combed most of the surrounding area we were familiar with, but as they had been unaware of the exact location of the cave, they had not been able to find their way back to it. I myself could not remember the specific route, as following both Tamlen's and the humans' trail had led off the paths we knew of. However, even with little more than the general direction I had taken before to find my friend, I knew where I was going. It was as though something was quietly drawing me back towards that dark place, like a soft, sickening whisper running through the earth was ringing softly in my own blood. Just as a river that flows back to the ocean, with every step I took I knew I was drawing closer to the nightmare Tamlen and I had stumbled into.

For a while, Merrill and Fenarel followed me without question, trusting my sense of direction and familiarity with the woods and the area enough that they did not doubt my path, not even when we stepped off of the main trails and forged our way through the heart of the trees. I could not say for sure whether certain growths and rock formations were truly becoming more familiar to me or not, but I thought it best to trust my instincts, slower than usual though they felt. In time, we stumbled across something that was totally unfamiliar, even to me.

Merrill stirred a pile of charred sticks placed carefully at the base of a ledge with her foot, frowning as she did and attempting to assess how long ago the last coals had stopped burning. "Whose camp is this?" She asked as though I would know. "Do you remember it being here?"

"I do not," I answered. "It was not here before." Kneeling down next to it, I dusted off ash from a slightly warm piece of kindling that had only partially burned through. "It's still relatively fresh. Can't be more than a day old, not with the rain from the previous nights."

"Could it have been one of our hunters?"

"I doubt it," Fenarel replied, also studying it intently. "None stayed past dusk, when the forests became unsafe and darkness became too difficult to travel through."

"What about the human?" I suggested. "The one who found me. He has been traveling these woods now himself, hasn't he?"

"He has," Merrill said. "He did return to the forest after bringing you back to camp. Regardless, he's not here now, and we've still to see even the smallest sign of Tamlen." She made a small noise of disappointment. "Perhaps we should-"

Merrill stopped. Her eyes had left the ruined camp site and scanned the surrounding trees and rocks and bushes before turning skyward, her brow furrowed. She was suddenly very still, her one hand visibly tightening on her staff.

"What's wrong?" asked Fenarel.

"Listen," she said softly. "Do you hear that?"

We listened. We heard nothing, absolutely nothing. No birds chirped, no critters scurried through the underbrush, no twigs snapped underfoot. Even the trees and wind appeared still, as if frozen by some ominous force. Hardly anything moved at all, and suddenly, it seemed as though the mere sound of our breathing was amplified tenfold by the silence pressing down around us. I wished we had not been speaking so loudly and carelessly.

"I don't hear anything," I said as I slowly stood. "Nothing. No animals, no birds...it's completely quiet. Too quiet. The forest is too...still."

"Something's in the air," Fenarel hissed. "Something unnatural."

I shuddered and rubbed my arms. "I've felt this way before," I whispered. "That unnatural feeling. Tamlen did, too. Inside the cave."

"Inside the cave?" Merrill repeated. "And now it's affecting the rest of the forest as well?"

My thoughts drifted back to the mirror and the flash of light that dazzled my final memories in the cave. I could not help but associate the dreadful feeling in the forest with that cool structure. "Maybe that mirror unleashed something. Some kind of...power, or sickness, and now it's spreading through the trees."

"That would not be good," Merrill said in a glorious understatement considering the situation. "But maybe we can find the source and stop it before it spreads further. Hurry-the sooner we find the cave, and Tamlen, the sooner we can leave."

We continued through the silent canopy of leaves that stretched above us, dappling rays of light that broke through the clouds onto the ground in wild patches. The forest remained silent as a grave, but only for a short time.

It happened as the three of us were clamoring over several downed trees. A sudden pain ran thickly through my veins, enough that I stopped where I was and passed a hand over my eyes, feeling something sweep my cheek as I did. Fenarel gave an alarmed cry that caught my attention, and I dropped my hand and turned. An arrow had skimmed my face and landed firmly in the ground, a twisted, ugly arrow that was black all the way down the shaft. Something was in the forest with us, something warped and evil and sick that was now giving off a low, guttural battle cry. They burst through the leaves and charged at us, and it took me a moment to register what horrible creatures they were.

If I had to compare them to something, I suppose it would be human or dwarf. They were hominoid in the sense that they stood upon two stubby legs, had a pair of thick, muscular arms, and possessed a round head balanced atop broad shoulders. Yet the resemblance quickly ended there. Grayish-brown skin, pointed ears, sharp teeth, long claws and small raging eyes completed the image of these monstrous beings as they swarmed towards us, waving their black weapons and shouting their hoarse cries. They were clad in thick armor that was old and tarnished, possibly scavenged from some deep, dark tomb, and whatever they were, they were clever enough to use proper weapons and attempt a surprise attack on us. Too intelligent to be animals, yet their senseless howling and straight-forward charging indicated their intelligence probably extended no further than that of an insane ax-wielding child. Of all the evil things I have seen in my life, of undead warriors and vengeful spirits and the senseless cruelty of men, I have yet to encounter anything darker or more frightening than those twisted beasts I would soon come to know by name.

A ball of light and energy shot past me and struck one of the beasts squarely in the chest, causing it to tumble backwards several paces. Ignoring the slight daze and pain that was still throbbing throughout my limbs, I grabbed my bow and readied myself to fight off the monstrous fiends. Fenarel and I both complimented Merrill's ranged magic attacks with a flurry of arrows that struck quickly and with deadly precision, but even wounded and with their comrades falling around them, our enemies charged towards us relentlessly. One lunged at me with its blade when it drew within range, its face split in a wide fanged grin, its foul breath rushing out with every crazed grunt it released. I parried its sword with my bow, which cracked in protest but did not break, so fine was Master Ilen's craft. With my other hand, I stabbed outward with my Dar'Misu, and the creature fell. Merrill released a final bolt that brought the last one down, and when all the bodies were still, our breathing was the only thing that cut through the resuming silence.

"What were those things?" Merrill asked, her knuckles white upon her staff as she looked down at the dead creatures. "Were those..._Darkspawn_?"

"I don't know," I answered. "Keeper Marethari said something about Darkspawn possibly being in the area, but..." I shook my head. Somehow, the fanatic monsters we had just put down didn't seem to quite fit the Keeper's basic and bland description. I'd never seen anything so mindless and beastlike in my life.

"They are evil," Merrill said softly. "You can smell it on them. Everything about them...they must be Darkspawn." She tore her eyes from the small tainted corpse and looked back to me. "Where did they come from? Were they here before?"

"I am at least fairly certain I would have noticed them before," I muttered. I looked down at Master Ilen's ruined bow. The string had been cut and the body was almost split in half. I doubted it would hold up well enough to fire another arrow, even were I to retie it. I tossed it aside glumly. While I was handy enough with my blades, as an elf and a being who spent a good chunk of my life on archery, I felt oddly vulnerable without a bow.

"Come on," Merrill said, her voice still struggling slightly to regain its usual fortitude. "Let's move on before more of these monsters show up."

Fenarel and I agreed with that decision without hesitation, but Merrill did not move. She was eyeing me now more closely than she had before.

"Are you all right?" She asked suddenly, and there was genuine concern in her tone. "Were you hurt during the fight?"

"No," I replied with a bit of confusion. "Why do you ask?"

"You...do look quite pale, now that Merrill's mentioned it," said Fenarel.

"You've only just recovered from your illness..." Merrill extended her hand a little, but stopped before touching me and let it drop. "Keeper Marethari was worried, but-"

"I'm fine," I said quickly, looking at both of them firmly. "It's just the exertion. I'll be fine. Let's just go, the longer we stand here, the more time we waste."

What I said to them was not completely true, but I cared little about my own state at the time. Well or no, I would rather have fought an entire horde of Darkspawn myself than risk them turning back because of me.

I did not know at the time how very sick I was.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Dragon Age: Origins**_

**_Last of the Elvhenan_**

_**Chapter Four: The Grey Warden**_

We reached the cave by about midday, when the sun had finally fully broken through the light cloud covering and cast haunting shapes at our feet while we cautiously entered the tunnel. The ruins were as dark and dank as I remembered, but with a different darkness about it, a new shadow that hung in the air as noticeably as a thick fog blanketing a lake in the early morning hours. Tattered webs dangled morosely from the ceiling and walls, piles of scattered bones sat motionless in dusty heaps, and the lopsided pillars offering whatever partial support the ruins needed to keep from collapsing inward and swallowing itself up stood like crooked old men trying to uphold a weight that had grown too great for them. A foul smell in the air I had not sensed the first time bit at my nose, distastefully wet and sickeningly sweet like the heaviness of freshly spilled blood. Had I not been so determined to find my lethallin, I would have turned my back on that place and let it fade into bad memory.

Merrill strode slowly but boldly into the center of the first chamber, peering around at the architecture with a shrewd expression. A soft glow lit the tip of her wooden staff, and she raised it higher in an attempt to force away the dark shroud the ruins cast over us, sharpening the cool and ominous corners still carved in blackness. A musky wind swept by our faces, and I felt Fenarel shiver beside me.

"So these are the ruins?" Merrill said with courteous interest that seemed vastly out of place, her soft voice ringing against the forgotten stone. "Interesting. They are definitely of human origin, but with elven artifacts scattered amongst them." She ran a small hand over the warped pillars as we advanced and looked closely at the broken rocks we stepped lightly upon. "Strange. With all that has occurred here I would have expected more of a disturbing presence, but I sense less than I imagined."

"You _don't_ find this place disturbing?" Fenarel asked incredulously.

"I find nothing to suggest what made the Veil so thin here, what caused all the death or brought all the monsters. None of the sure causing factors or signs of dark magic or vengeful spirits." She looked at the bones. "Just an old, old place forgotten by time that has somehow been made...wrong. Twisted."

We passed into another room, and her eyes found the remains of one of the Giant Spiders Tamlen and I had slain during our first visit, evidence of our battles there. She made a soft, sorrowful noise in the back of her throat. "I can only hope Tamlen's fate was kinder than that of the previous inhabitants. I can't imagine he's still alive with all the creatures lurking about. Whatever's left of him-"

I turned quickly, my fingers grasping hold of Merrill's cloak and jerking the furred hem near her narrow shoulder. "_Don't_ say that. You don't know, you don't know _anything_ yet! We're not leaving until we find him."

Her eyes had widened, reflecting the furious blue from my own. She seemed more startled than affronted by my outburst. Her voice softened a little and her expression was gentle, but with the patience of a parent trying to console an irrational child. "All right," she said. "All right. You're right, we should explore further before I go on about my fears. I'm sorry, lethallan."

It was not in Merrill's nature to address me or anyone as such, and I released my hold on her. My flash of anger had subsided as quickly as it had appeared, stirred by the fear of my single sliver of hope being dashed by her calm words. I gripped my unsheathed blades and moved ahead, Fenarel and Merrill following behind me.

Silence persisted in our wake for a time. Merrill may have intended to break it, to say something more or less than she had before, but she was never given the chance. Just as she made a noise it was drowned out by something else, something loud and horrid and familiar. Through the shadows they leapt and were upon us in waves, their glistening teeth and gleaming eyes and moldy breath like the resurgence of a nightmare. The Darkspawn had invaded the caves just as we had, and were now charging us from all directions, whatever thoughts they may have possessed in their twisted skulls focused solely on ridding us of our lives. Their uncaring feet mercilessly crushed the brittle ivory remnants of the former dwellers, and I was only glad the corpses showed no sign of rising again to join the battle. Had that happened, the three of us would surely have been cut down.

Merrill proved more skilled at using combative magic in close quarters than I would have expected, and managed to keep the Darkspawn from overwhelming Fenarel and I while we fought in the narrow channels with our blades, utilizing our speed as much as we were able to make up for our lack of numbers. The ruins echoed with their howling and the clash of weapons or the burst of magic from Merrill's staff. The floor was soon slick with blackish-red Darkspawn blood, heightening the sick smell I had noticed when the three of us first entered. Recalling what the Keeper had said about Darkspawn blood being a poison, I tried to shout a warning to my clan mates. However, there is only so much caution one can take when in a fight to the death, and in no time our hands and hunting leathers were stained thick and heavy with inky crimson. It was in that moment that I felt the prickling of true fear dancing amongst the other feelings swirling within. If anything happened to Fenarel or Merrill, if they returned to the clan injured or ill, it would haven been my fault. It was I who had first traipsed so carelessly into that pit of evils, who had helped set loose whatever darkness was now running rampant, and it was I who now led my friends back within. I prayed to our silent gods to grant them safety as I fought at their sides.

We moved deeper into the ruins as we fought, crossing from room to room and gaining inches of ground with every Darkspawn slain, a slow and painstaking march across a wicked battlefield. I took notice that not all the Darkspawn killed were ours, not all the blood spilled had been through us. There were corpses strewn about that had been dead before we approached, and I registered that someone or something else was there. With a new glimmer of hope I scanned the bodies very quickly for broken arrows or the elegant cuts of an elven blade, but found none. Their wounds were deeper, made by something longer and heavier than Tamlen's longsword, but as it was unlikely any of the other hunters had found their way there, I could not think of who or what would have done such or been there with us.

It was some time before we reached the partially collapsed tunnel with the statue of Falon'Din, and it was there I paused, the three of us granted a moment's respite from our constant struggle. I looked at the stone figure, face cold and blank, arms outstretched in both welcome and warning, a greeting and a caution. Felled skeletons and dead Darkspawn lay at the spirit shepherd's feet, and I could almost hear a voice say, _They are those without peace. Leave this place. _I turned and approached the doors across from him, closed tightly since I had last seen them. Remembering the demon-bear that had lurked beyond them the first time, I took a slow, careful breath before pushing them open once more.

The bear's bloated carcass lay forgotten amidst those of more Darkspawn, scattered about in sticky semi-assembled piles. The mirror's light met us as we framed the doorway, bright in the darkness, lovely and terrible as before and still unmarred by the age and recent violence that surrounded it. A lone figure stood at the mirror's base. It was not Tamlen, much to my disappointment, but a human man. He turned as we entered, his crossed arms falling to his sides while he regarded us out of the predatory eyes of a forest wolf, careful but without hostility merely because he perceived no immediate threat. He was tall and dark-skinned, with strong features, black hair tied back in a short tail, and a dark whiskered face. He was clad in garments the likes of which I had never seen, part silver armor and part light cloth, with a long and heavy sword belted over his shoulder. When we drew closer, he spoke in a deep voice that I remembered fleetingly from feverish dreams.

"So you were the ones fighting Darkspawn. I thought I heard combat." He looked from Fenarel to Merrill, then to myself. His brow raised slightly, a small sign of surprise. "You're the elf I found wandering the forest, aren't you? I'm amazed to see you have recovered."

I returned his gaze warily, disappointment still stinging deeply at my core and coloring my tone of voice. "_Na las shemlen meldor, vir lei he'dan_." You are the human from before, one we had not killed.

"Ilysiade, watch your tongue," Merrill said to me sharply.

"What does it matter?" I asked. "He's human. It's not as though he understands us."

"Even if you didn't owe this human your life, a Grey Warden is deserving of respect. Be mindful of that, or be silent."

"Your friend owes me nothing," the human said evenly. "It was my duty to return an injured Dalish to your clan. Your people have been allies with the Grey Wardens, after all."

His expression had remained unchanged, but I imagine mine had not. I realized with a start that this Grey Warden had understood what Merrill and I were saying. I had not yet in my life met a single human who understood elvish, bringing with it the notion that perhaps this human was worth more than I had believed with my initial impression.

"My name is Duncan," the Grey Warden said to me, "and it is a pleasure to finally meet you. The last time we spoke, you were barely conscious."

Slowly, I gave a slight inclination of my head, and spoke clearly and with less of an edge in my voice. "My name is Ilysiade. Thank you for helping me." The last words escaped in a clumsy, almost involuntary tumble.

"_Andaran atish'an_, Duncan of the Grey Wardens," Merrill said much more courteously than I, her voice oddly foreign to me with its human words and elven accent. "I am Merrill, apprentice to the Keeper of our clan."

"And I am Fenarel," Fenarel said. "Did you...come here alone, human? Battling all those creatures?"

"Yes, though I must admit, you took a great deal of pressure off me," said Duncan. "Your Keeper did not send you after me, did she? I told her I would be in no danger."

While there was hardly a lack of danger involved in battling through a dark cave filled with vicious beasts by oneself, I thought it wiser not to point that out, along with the notion that our clan was not in the habit of rescuing wayward humans. "We are looking for _lethallin_-for our brother, Tamlen," I told him instead.

Merrill recounted the story I had told her and Fenarel to the Grey Warden, much to my relief, as I quickly grew tired of his dialect whereas Merrill spoke it easily. The smell lingering in the air seemed heavier in the enclosed room, and the shadows were more pronounced to me, despite the gleam of the mirror and the light of Merrill's staff. Suddenly feeling more wearied than ever, I put a hand to my eyes as Merrill's voice drifted through the air, my head heavy and still fighting off the presence of a dark mantle clinging persistently to the edges of my thoughts. When I raised my eyes, I found Duncan watching me keenly with a slightly furrowed brow. I let my hand drop from my face quickly and straightened up.

"So you and your friend Tamlen both entered this cave?" He asked once Merrill had gone silent. "And you saw this mirror and touched it?" I nodded, and his expression became more somber. "I see. That's...unfortunate."

He turned and looked at the shimmering pane of glass, so fragile yet powerful to remain whereas stone and rock crumbled around it into dust. With its proud guardians flanking either side and its intricate writing, it was hard to imagine how something so beautiful could be so sinister. Duncan looked back to us and said, "The Grey Wardens have seen artifacts like this mirror before. It is Tevinter in origin, used for communication. Over time some of them simply...break. They become filled with the same taint as the Darkspawn. Tamlen's touch may have released it, causing you to grow sick-and Tamlen, too, I presume."

"So the mirror truly was the cause," Merrill said softly, a hint of awe in her voice. Her eyes were dancing with the light from the mirror, and she was looking at it the same way I had, the same way I'd seen Tamlen look at it, drawn to it by some beckoning force. "We must take it to the Keeper. She will want to examine it."

Duncan's wolfish eyes clouded over, and his tone became stern. "The Darkspawn are drawn to the mirror and its taint like a beacon. Would you lead them to your clan, risk infecting the rest of your kin?"

Merrill drew herself up fully, which was not impressive as she hardly came up to my shoulder, let alone Duncan's height. "I do not fear the monsters or the sickness. The Darkspawn may be slain, and our Keeper knows how to cure the ill. We will be safe."

"None are safe where Darkspawn prowl," Duncan said heavily. "To believe otherwise is to invite destruction. As for the sickness, your Keeper may have weakened it, but she cannot cure it." His eyes were back to mine now, and it was as though he was looking through me into something deeper. "I can sense the sickness in you, and it is spreading. Look inside yourself, and you will see."

I could feel Merrill and Fenarel looking to me now as well, and I wished they wouldn't. At that moment, it was as though the weight in my blood and the shroud in my mind strengthened, a substantiation that even I could not ignore. I had sensed something within me, a pain and weakness, from the very moment I had awakened in the Keeper's aravel to Ashalle's anxious eyes, despite my best efforts to ignore it. It is one thing to sense a truth within yourself. It is another to be fully presented with it by someone else. Yet even then, staring back unflinchingly at the human who was quietly forcing me to face the facts of the matter, I was willing neither to submit to his words nor accept my own lie. I blinked and looked away.

"Confirm it with your Keeper later, if you like," Duncan said quietly. "For now, we must deal with the mirror; it is a danger."

He turned once again to the mirror, stepping forward onto the stone dais and drawing his sword from his shoulder as he did so. The face of the mirror trembled and turned an angry red, and it was as though whatever presence that swam beneath its glassy surface sensed the approaching Warden and knew of his intent. Merrill's cry was the only sound heard over the tinkling bell-like shatter of glass as Duncan swung his blade, an arm rising up to greet the flash of furious light that engulfed him, though he did not fall from it. In that instant, my eyes narrowed against the blinding whiteness and taking in only the shadowed figure of the human, I was struck with the odd notion that he and the mirror were somehow alike. Something in the tainted darkness of what lived within the mirror and the dark defiance of the Grey Warden existed on the same level, a level only other Grey Wardens stood upon and could understand. It would be a while longer before I stood at that point myself, and understood.

Duncan glanced at the broken shards that dotted the ground, the last remnants of a dark time not fully forgotten, before he turned back to us. Merrill was shaking indignantly beside me, her face cool but her eyes angry, small hands white upon her staff. Duncan stilled her with a look before speaking.

"It is done. Now let's leave this cursed place. I must speak to your Keeper regarding your cure."

The bewildered, curious and somewhat dazed part of me descended back within to be replaced by agitation. "What about Tamlen?"

"There is nothing we can do."

His tone was sorrowful, and held the same finality in it that Merrill's had, causing my anger to resurface. "I am not leaving until I find him!"

"Let me be very clear," Duncan said, "there is _nothing _you can do for him. He's been tainted for three days now, unaided."

"You do not know Tamlen," I said defiantly. "He is strong. He could survive. I did. If anyone would survive, could survive, Tamlen would."

"If only wishful thinking could make it so," Duncan replied gently. "You survived through sheer willpower and the graceful art of your Keeper's healing, but Tamlen had no chance. Trust me when I tell you that he is gone."

"What about a body?" Fenarel asked. "Would there not at least be a body?"

"The Darkspawn would have taken it."

I felt an icy chill sweep down my spine, and Fenarel's voice was suddenly strained. "Taken? Not to...eat it..."

Duncan shook his head. "The Darkspawn are evil creatures, and it's best to leave it at that. I'm...sorry."

Merrill and Fenarel were both quiet now, their posture weighted down with grief and their eyes downcast. With the human's words, they were giving up on any chance of finding our friend, our clan mate and fellow hunter whom we had known all our lives. In that dark, desolate place, I gripped desperately at the slimmest possibility I could manage, no matter how foolish. "There may still be hope."

Duncan's patience was stretched only slightly at my refusal to accept the ugly facts. "Listen to me. Though the parting hurts, you must accept that whatever trace of your friend may have remained, the Darkspawn would have-"

"Then I will take it back!" I said fiercely. "I will follow them to their lair if I must. I will face down an army of them if need be, but I will not turn away until I find Tamlen, or see them all dead!"

For the second time, I seemed to have somehow surprised Duncan. He was looking at me with a quiet intent brewing behind his impassive mask. When he spoke, it was carefully and searching. "Do you, like your friend here, not fear the Darkspawn?"

Merrill made a noise in her throat again, but I ignored it. I looked at Duncan, and could tell that he, like the Keeper, was listening with the desire to know only the simple truth. I thought of the small Darkspawn we had faced in battle so far, the mindless, ferocious things with their evil eyes and bone-chilling howls, unlike anything I had yet heard or ever wanted to hear again.

"I would lie to say I did not fear them," I answered slowly, "but there are still things greater to me than fear."

Duncan gave no response to what I said. He only looked at me for a long time, until I felt my face begin to grow hot, sure that he was mocking my words with his reticence.

"There are other ways to fight the Darkspawn than blindly chasing them to your death," Duncan finally said. "But we must first leave this place. You are sick, whether you wish to admit it or not, and it does you no good to remain here."

My anger bubbled over. "No!"

I strode past him fury, taking long strides towards the dark tunnels that lie on the other end of the room past the broken mirror. I thought Duncan may have reached out to stop me, and was prepared to lash out if he did, but I never felt his hand quite touch my shoulder. Instead, I only heard Merrill's voice from behind, speaking to the human in an undertone.

"Please, do not think too harshly. Tamlen was very dear to her."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was futile, and at that time, a part of me knew that. It was a fool's actions, to press even further into the depths of that place in search of…something. Anything, any sign, any slight indication that I wanted to believe still remained. It simply could not be that Tamlen was suddenly gone like that.

Yet it was.

The tunnels did not go much further, and dead-ended due to a collapse of the walls and ceiling. Fenarel and Merrill followed behind me, but they did so at a distance, their hope and motivation gone in light of the human's words. They watched silently as I searched every nook and cranny, every shadow and small crevice, every inch of what remained of the ruins, until my hands were black with dirt, scratched and bloodied. I cannot say for sure how long I spent sifting through the dark, but I moved slowly and took careful steps not to miss a single thing.

It wasn't until we had circled back and returned to the room with the remains of the mirror that I did find something. Amidst the rocks lay a small broken figure, and when I swooped down and picked it up, I recognized it. It was the statue Tamlen and I had taken from the other humans, that which had first piqued our curiosity of the place. It must have dislodged itself from Tamlen's belt in the battle with the bear, when he had been thrown backwards. One of the antlers was broken, and there was a deep crack running across the base of the figure. Yet to me, it offered the slimmest feeling of chance, and I continued my search with renewed purpose.

Yet time dragged on, and there was nothing more to be found. Nothing was said to one another-what could have been? What words could assuage the emotion born of despair and damaged pride? Mutely, we found our way back to the entrance, and my companions did not stop there. They offered only quick furtive glances before pushing past me and into the open air of the forest. Duncan was waiting for us there, though he must have waited a long time, for the sun had turned a bloody red and was dipping under the tops of the trees. Duncan fell in step beside me as we left the ruins. He walked at my side the entire way back to camp, and never said a word.


End file.
